


The Dance

by AlleiraDayne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Guilt, Hopeful Ending, Kissing, POV Sam Winchester, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 12:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18498610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: Sam has a visitor in his dreams.





	The Dance

**Author's Note:**

> For SPN Heaven & Hell Bingo, this filled the square Dream Visitations.

Blindingly bright light seeped through his eyelids as Sam squinted and stirred in his bed. He had barely fallen asleep, hours of restless tossing and turning robbing him of slumber. Regret plagued him, filled his mind with ceaseless visions of her body, mangled and misshapen. She had been so alone, and when she had needed them most, they had failed her.

He had failed her.

The light continued to pester him, growing brighter until Sam opened his eyes. Opaque, diffused white surrounded him, endless, as though he drifted in a cloud. He tossed the sticking sheets from his sweating body and swung his feet to the floor, the cold marble of his room in the Bunker still there. But what of the rest of his room? Had he gone blind?

A buffeting of wings ruffled his hair before he heard his voice. “You're dreaming, Sam.”

Over his shoulder he saw Gabriel stood beside his bed, wings fading as they folded. “Why am I dreaming?”

“Uh, well, humans dream to help them process and catalog what they…” Gabriel paused when he saw Sam's crooked brow. “You meant this,” he said as he gestured to their surroundings. “I couldn't really think of a place for you two to meet. Not like you had a favorite restaurant or anything normal people do.”

Sam glared at him. “What are you talking about? How are you even doing—you know what, I don't even want to know, can I just… go back to sleep?”

Gabriel rounded the bed to sit beside him. “I think you might want to stay lucid a bit longer. There's someone here that wants to talk to you.”

When Gabriel turned with his crooked smile, Sam followed his gaze and gasped.

“Hey, Sam.”

Whole. Brilliantly beautiful. And happy. Eileen stood three feet from him, so full of life, and yet Sam froze. Gabriel looked between them a moment, but when neither of them moved, he stood and spoke. “I'll uh,” he paused as he motioned to nowhere in particular, “leave you kids alone.”

Sam righted his hair in the wake of Gabriel's wings, but his wide eyes never left Eileen. She waited a breath longer before asking, “Sam? Are you alright?”

He should have done it ages ago. He should have taken the chance when she was alive. He leaped from his bed and crossed the space between them in a single step. He had to make up for lost time, and given such a rare chance, he would not squander it. With both hands, he cradled her head, and Eileen met him half way, chin tilted and lips ready. Her arms flung around his back as she clung to him, and when his lips found hers, Sam wept.

He poured every ounce of his guilt and regret into that kiss, desperate in his need for forgiveness. Sobs heaved his shoulders as he enveloped Eileen in his arms and held her flush to his chest. How had it come down to nothing but a dream? Real, she felt so real in his arms, on his lips. He had to do something, something to make things right. Eileen deserved nothing that had happened to her, least of all her death.

That had been his fault.

“Sam,” Eileen started, her lips against his, “stop blaming yourself.”

He held her at arm’s length, lost in the depths of her dark brown eyes. With a sniffle, he wiped away his tears as he spoke. “How? If you had never met me, you’d still be alive.”

Tender fingers carded through his hair as Eileen smiled. “That banshee might have finished the job if you and Dean hadn’t showed up.”

Funny, even in death. “That’s not true. You had that hunt completely covered,” he said as he curled a stray lock of her golden-brown hair behind her ear. “Dean just likes playing the hero.”

She snorted at that. “And you don't?”

Oh, how he missed her wit. “Maybe. Still, you didn’t need one,” he stated with a crooked smirk.

“No, but I didn’t mind having two,” she teased. “Besides, it was worth it. I wouldn't trade having met you.”

He wanted to laugh. But insidious thoughts stripped him of any mirth he might have felt. “I wish I'd have gotten your letter sooner. You could have stayed with us. In the Bunker. I could have—”

“Please,” Eileen interrupted. “Don’t feel sorry for me. You couldn’t have known what the Brits were up to.

“But I should have,” he insisted as he parted from her. Frustration gripped him like a vice as Sam paced, his mind muddied by turbulent thoughts. When he found his bed remained solid amidst the cloudy white that surrounded them, he sat upon it and prayed for clarity. “I should have known they would go after everyone we cared about. They took my mom, for fucks sake. Of course they’d come after you.”

Eileen followed him to his bed and sat beside him. “I meant that much to you?”

It pained him so to see the doubt in her eyes. “You did. You still do,” he replied as he took her hand, so small in his. What he wouldn’t give, what he wouldn’t do to see her alive again. The thought terrified him.

“I don’t have much longer,” she said. “Gabriel might be the most powerful archangel left, but even his ability to manipulate time and space is limited.”

Grief weighed so heavy on his heart, he felt it might burst. He had to say goodbye. Again. He opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat, unable to give them voice. He knew what would happen next. He would fall asleep, then awaken to remember only a brief glimpse of their final moments together. No matter how deep he delved, he couldn’t find the courage to say it.

Because deep down, he knew the truth. He had no desire to ever say goodbye to Eileen.

“It’s okay, Sam,” she sighed. Her fingers twitched as she spoke. “Rest. You’ll find a way tomorrow.”

Blurred by the fresh tears in his eyes, Eileen’s sad smile wavered, and Sam drifted, lost in a roiling sea of distress. Down he wandered, buoyed by the current and rocked gently to sleep as he lay back in his bed. Eileen never left his side, her hand still in his as he succumbed to darkness once more.

“Goodbye, Sam,” he heard. “I’ll see you again soon.”

In the intervening hours, Sam slept, soundless and undisturbed. No other visions came to him, not even his typical nightmares. Rest he had not experienced in years revitalized him so that when he awoke at six o'clock the following morning, he headed straight for the Library.

A pot of coffee, at least twenty books, and an hour of cross-referencing later, Sam stumbled upon the information for which he searched. But it had not been in any of the books or files or marginal notes. The answer to his nagging question had lain buried in a newly minted memory.

_I’ll see you again soon._

That moment resurfaced as his mind wandered amidst the books. Looped, it repeated endlessly as he focused on one, tiny detail he had missed the night before.

_Her fingers twitched as she spoke. “Rest. You'll find a way tomorrow.”_

Not a way to say goodbye. A way to _never_ say goodbye. Her fingers had moved so quick, it was no wonder he had missed them in the moment.

_Hellhound. Ketch. Loophole._

Brilliant as ever, Eileen had figured it out on her own. She only needed him to execute her plan.

Sam raised a brow as he scanned the Library, and, once positive that he was very much alone, he spoke.

“Hey, uh, Chuck? It’s Sam. I’ve got a question for you…”

 


End file.
